


Needy

by halcyon1993



Series: The Kinky Adventures of a Wolf and His Boy [68]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Derek Hale, Butt Plugs, Coming Untouched, Dildos, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Knotting, M/M, Mates Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Coital Cuddling, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys, Stiles Stilinski is a Little Shit, Teasing, Top Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 18:22:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20493224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halcyon1993/pseuds/halcyon1993
Summary: Derek has an insatiable ass. Stiles loves teasing him.





	Needy

**Author's Note:**

> As always with this series, don't judge me for the depravity I've written…

Derek has a big problem, and it's all Stiles' fault.

After they finally got over themselves and got together soon after Stiles' eighteenth birthday, everything was great. The Sheriff accepted Derek into their small family with surprisingly little fuss. Most of the Hale Pack was getting ready to go on to higher education, and the few who weren't were considering their other options, like apprenticeships or learning a trade. It had been months since a new entity arrived in Beacon Hills with the intention of sowing chaos, so it was peaceful too.

And then Stiles convinced Derek to bottom for the first time and his world was turned upside-down.

It was a revelation. He'd never really considered bottoming before, had only had sex with women anyway, so it never really came up. But once the can of worms was opened, Derek was suddenly fulfilled in a way he didn't think was possible. When Stiles fucked him…it was like all was right with the world.

Nowadays, he still tops every now and then, but nine times out of ten, he's on the receiving end and loves it. The bad part of it, though—or maybe the best—is that Stiles very quickly cottoned on to the effect he had and has no qualms teasing Derek at every opportunity. It's torture.

Every time he and Stiles are around each other, Stiles' hands will wander to Derek's ass. It doesn't matter who else is present—in fact, it seems that the more there are, the better—or how much Derek tries in vain to protest. Stiles has excuses every time, of course—"But your ass is just so plump and juicy! How am I meant to resist?"—and Derek never _truly_ dislikes it. It's actually kind of pathetic how much of a slut he becomes whenever Stiles' hands are on his ass, even over his clothes.

That brings Derek to where he is right how: sitting in a booth in a casual restaurant with Stiles and the Sheriff.

Just the other day, Stiles successfully took his first step toward becoming a PI, so his Dad decided to take him out for a celebratory dinner. Stiles brought Derek along too, and Derek enjoys watching the interactions between Stiles and the Sheriff while he eats his cheeseburger. He chips in occasionally, usually when Stiles prompts him, but otherwise he's content just to observe.

But then everyone finishes with their main courses, and after they've ordered dessert, Stiles shuffles over so that their thighs are pressed together and creeps a hand down Derek's back, getting dangerously close to the waist of Derek's jeans. How close they're sitting means this isn't visible to the Sheriff, who remains completely oblivious from his spot on the opposite side of the booth. In fact, judging from the indulgent smile that curls his lips, he seems to believe Stiles moving closer to Derek is entirely innocent, just two people in love naturally gravitating toward one another.

Derek wishes it were that innocent.

Going rigid, he senses where this is actually going, as hard to believe as it is. Surely not. Doing it around the pack is one thing, but surely Stiles wouldn't be so bold as to tease him around _his Dad_.

Apparently, Derek realises with wide eyes, his mate definitely would.

Fucking hell, why does he love Stiles again?

The eighteen-year-old acts as if nothing out of the ordinary is happening, just chats with his Dad as casually as if he's talking about the weather. But the whole time, Stiles slips his fingers beneath the hem of Derek's maroon henley and strokes over the smooth, tanned skin of his lower back, teasing him like the incorrigible little shit he is. And as if it has a mind of its own, Derek's hole clenches with need, like it's sensing that Stiles' long, slender fingers are nearby, just a few centimetres away from filling it up and working it over so expertly that Derek might be able to come untouched.

It takes herculean effort for Derek to follow Stiles' lead, not giving away the game. He sits with his spine ramrod straight and his hands balled into fists atop his knees, his claws out and piercing his palms. The pain helps to ground him, but it's not enough to enable him to ignore Stiles' touch.

Nothing could be enough for him to achieve that.

For another few minutes, Stiles takes things no further, but Derek knows it's coming. His evil mate is incapable of not taking things right to the edge, so all Derek can do is sit and wait for the inevitable.

He doesn't have to wait that long.

When their waitress returns with their desserts—apple pie with custard for Stiles, cherry pie with vanilla ice cream for the Sheriff, and chocolate fudge cake for Derek—Stiles uses the distraction to bring his hand up to his mouth and suck his middle finger past his lips. He's so surreptitious about it that only Derek sees, and then he returns his hand back behind Derek and—yup, here it is—ups the stakes by sticking it down the back of Derek's jeans and boxer-briefs this time.

He insinuates his middle finger between Derek's cheeks just as the waitress puts his plate of apple pie in front of him. He thanks her with a sunny smile, acting as if he isn't about to play with his lover's asshole in a public space, right under his Dad's nose.

Derek's face must show how affected he is, because the Sheriff frowns across the table at him. "You okay, Derek?" he asks.

Derek inhales sharply because Stiles chooses that moment, when the Sheriff's attention is intently focused on him, to reach that little bit further and brush the saliva-slick pad of his finger over Derek's most intimate place.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine," Derek lies. He's anything but, his dick swelling so rapidly that it makes him feel woozy. "This just looks so good, is all."

Fortunately, the Sheriff drops it after Derek picks up his spoon and schools his expression back into something acceptable.

Derek has to concentrate hard to chew, and then not choke, as he swallows bite after bite of his cake. He doesn't even taste it, can't when ninety-five percent of his brain power is taken up by how Stiles is rubbing his finger slowly over his hole, never exerting enough pressure to slip inside. It feels good, because anything of Stiles' getting near Derek's hole always feels good, but it's horrible at the same time because it's not enough. Derek needs more, needs to be stretched and filled up so he's not so unbearably empty.

Derek curses his own neediness, but there's nothing he can do to stop it.

After another two minutes, the Sheriff sets his spoon down beside his half-eaten cherry pie and announces that he has to use the restroom.

Once he's gone, Derek releases a shaky breath. "You're evil," he says, narrowing his eyes at the boy next to him.

Stiles chuckles and gives him an unrepentant grin, all teeth and bright eyes. "And proud of it, babe."

"You gonna stop?"

"Nah. I can eat my pie with one hand, so I wasn't planning on it."

Derek groans and hangs his head as Stiles finally presses harder against his hole, the very tip of his finger slipping inside. "Stiles…"

"You like that, Sourwolf?"

"You know I do!" Derek grits out frustratedly.

"Poor baby…always so needy for me, aren't you?" Stiles' amusement is evident in his voice, the bastard. "Such a needy little hole you've got."

Derek just growls lowly and rocks back onto Stiles' finger, thanking John's full bladder for them being alone—or as alone as they can be in a booth in a reasonably busy restaurant.

"I wonder if I should just have them pack this up so we can take it home with us," Stiles says, playing with the remnants of his pie with his spoon. "I've still got a bunch of custard left."

Derek can't guess where his mate is going with this, so he doesn't respond. He just sits and repeatedly clenches his hole, like he's trying to suck Stiles' finger in deeper.

"It gives me an idea," Stiles continues. He sets down his spoon and swipes his index finger through some of his custard. "See this, Der?"

Cracking open his eyes, Derek nods warily. "Yeah."

"How fun would it be to slather your pretty hole with a bunch of custard and then eat it off of you?"

Derek nearly orgasms at the mere idea, his dick leaking copious amounts of pre-come in his boxer-briefs. The fabric must be soaked by now. "Stiles!"

"Would you like that?"

Knowing he's unable to lie to Stiles about it, all Derek can do is nod ashamedly.

"I'd like that too. Your hole's always so tasty, and I bet it'd be even better with some custard. Then again, _everything's_ better with custard." Stiles sucks the sweet yellow treat off of his finger and moans softly.

Just then, the Sheriff returns from the restroom and slides back into the other side of the booth. Despite what he said a few moments ago, Stiles withdraws his hand from the back of Derek's underwear, an act of mercy because there's no way Derek would've been able to pretend he wasn't close to coming after the filth Stiles just told him. He feels like he can breathe properly again, even as he misses the touch of Stiles' finger on his hole. He clenches it and mentally chides himself.

_Behave,_ he thinks, eating the rest of his chocolate cake. _Stupid needy hole._

* * *

After the end of dinner, Derek drives back to the loft with Stiles tailing him in his Jeep. Stiles hasn't moved in with him yet—and Derek is planning on finding a more suitable place to live before that actually happens at some point in the future, like a proper house or something—but he sleeps over more often than not. Tonight is one of those nights, and Derek can already tell that he's gonna be in for it.

He's both dreading whatever Stiles has in store for him and looking forward to it.

Inside the freight elevator now, Stiles drops a strange bag he'd brought with him from his Jeep and steps up behind him, wrapping his arms around him.

"Hey," Derek murmurs, putting his hands atop Stiles'.

"Hey," the human echoes, kissing the back of Derek's neck with obvious intent.

"Can you at least wait until we're actually in the loft?" Derek's voice is a bit too whiny for his liking.

Stiles scoffs. "As if you're not desperate for it too."

Derek considers denying it, but then Stiles lowers a hand to cup him through his jeans and there's no use.

"See? You totally want it," Stiles says, squeezing Derek's obvious arousal. "Needy."

Derek shudders. Yes. He's so fucking needy, it's embarrassing. At least it's just him and Stiles now, and he knows that his mate doesn't judge him for being this way. In fact, Stiles actively encourages it, as he did with the whole game he dragged Derek into playing back at the restaurant.

The freight elevator comes to a stop on Derek's floor, and Stiles releases him. He just stands there, unsure of what to do until Stiles takes pity on him and pulls up the shutter. Then Stiles picks up his bag, takes Derek's hand in his free one and leads him out of the elevator, wearing a smirk the whole time, much to Derek's chagrin. His expression doesn't change until they're in the privacy of the loft proper, the metal door sliding shut behind them with a loud clang that echoes around the large, empty space, bouncing off of the brick and concrete.

Totally alone with his mate in his home, Derek eyes him with a mixture of caution and anticipation. "What now?"

"Now?" Stiles' smirk softens into a smile that's still mischievous but is also soft, like the smiles he saves only for Derek. "Now, I'm gonna take care of you."

Derek swallows with difficulty. "How?"

With their hands still connected, Stiles drags Derek across the loft to the king-size bed tucked into one corner, partially hidden by a white screen partition. "That's for me to know and for you to find out."

"Sounds ominous."

"Oh, it is. But don't worry, Sourwolf." Stiles plants a chaste kiss on his lips. "It's gonna be so damn good."

Derek takes Stiles' word for it with ease. This isn't the first time Stiles has had plans for them in bed since they started having sex, and Derek has found each time more mind-blowing than the last.

Stiles sets his bag on the foot of the bed, and Derek's curiosity finally gets the best of him. "What's in there?" he enquires.

Stiles prevaricates. "Again, for me to know, yadda yadda yadda."

Derek harrumphs.

"C'mon, let's get you outta those pesky clothes," Stiles says with a wink, already reaching for the hem of Derek's henley.

Powerless to disobey his mate when they're about to do the deed, Derek raises his arms and lets Stiles take off his T-shirt. Once it's on the floor somewhere else in the loft, Stiles lowers his hands to Derek's belt, unbuckling it before undoing the button and zipper too. He doesn't bother sliding the belt out of the loops before he kneels, pulling Derek's jeans and boxer-briefs down the werewolf's thick legs in the same motion. He has to pause briefly to remove Derek's shoes and socks, and then he rises to his full height and takes a step back to drink in the sight of a fully naked Derek Hale, his pupils blown wide with unrestrained lust.

Derek feels exposed, a sensation that's exacerbated by Stiles still being fully clothed, but it's not a bad feeling.

"I never get tired of looking at you like this," Stiles comments, cocking his head to the side. "So damn sexy."

The blood that's not currently in Derek's dick rushes to his face, and he's grateful that his facial hair covers up most of the ensuing blush. Stiles knows anyway.

"So pretty," the human says, wrinkling his nose as if Derek's the cutest thing he's ever seen.

Derek crosses his arms over his chest and looks away. "Shut up, Stiles…"

"Nope, no can do."

Derek is forced to look back at Stiles when Stiles' plaid overshirt goes flying past his head. His mate is soon equally as naked as him, and then he opens the top drawer in Derek's nightstand to take out the half-empty bottle of lube Derek keeps there.

"On the bed, Sourwolf," Stiles commands, pointing to it like he means business.

Derek arches an eyebrow. "If I say no?"

"Then you won't get these beauties in your hole," Stiles answers, waggling the fingers of one hand in Derek's face. "And wouldn't that be a crying shame?"

Derek doesn't say as much, but it really would be. He walks past Stiles and crawls onto his bed, settling on his stomach with his arms folded and his cheek resting atop them.

"There's a good boy," Stiles coos, kneeling next to him.

"I'm not a dog, Stiles," Derek growls.

"No, but that doesn't mean I can't give you compliments."

Derek grumbles quietly to himself and grinds his cock against the bedding beneath him, relieving some of the pressure he feels. His balls are swollen and ripe, aching with the need to come. But that's nothing compared to the aching of his hole, which has only worsened now that Stiles is actually going to do something about it.

"Lift your hips up for a sec'," Stiles says, grabbing one of the pillows from the head of the bed. He slots it beneath Derek's hips, raising his ass up. "That's better."

"Just get inside me already, Stiles," Derek pleads.

"Patience."

"But—"

"If you're not patient, I won't let you find out what I've got in my bag," Stiles threatens, and it's enough to make Derek stop speaking.

"Good boy."

There it is again. Derek holds in his complaint this time because it won't get him what he wants. Instead, he arches his back to tempt Stiles into getting on with the show.

A few seconds later, Stiles repositions himself so that he's kneeling between Derek's legs and squirts some lube out onto his fingers, getting them nice and slick.

"Ready?" he asks.

Derek huffs impatiently. "You know I am."

With a chuckle, Stiles finally—_finally_—inserts a finger properly into Derek's hole, going right up to the last knuckle. Derek hisses through his teeth and clenches tightly around it, relishing the feeling of having something inside him again. He sorely missed it, so much so that he can't stop himself from whining his disappointment when Stiles takes his finger away again.

"Relax, Sourwolf," Stiles says, stroking his clean hand down Derek's back. "I'm just getting a bit more lube."

True to his word, Stiles swiftly gives Derek his finger again and thrusts it slowly in and out, letting Derek get used to it. It doesn't take long at all, and then he crooks it slightly and brushes the pad across that special bundle of nerves inside, lighting Derek's veins on fire.

"Stiles!" he cries out, pushing back onto the finger invading his body.

"There it is," Stiles says, sounding as smug as ever.

He plays with Derek's prostate for a while, seeming content not to go any further until Derek is a writhing mess, sweat beading on his brow and his hair nearly coming out of his head with how hard he's tugging on it. Derek can't say how much time has passed when Stiles slips in his middle finger as well, scissoring them apart while still stimulating Derek's prostate every few seconds. He never settles on a rhythm, keeping things random so Derek can't hope to guess when the next frisson of white-hot pleasure is going to hit him. It's amazing, and the only thing that could make it better would be if it was Stiles' cock inside of him instead of his fingers. But for now, he'll take what he can get.

Right after he gives Derek a third finger, Stiles leans over him and nibbles on Derek's earlobe. "So needy," he whispers.

Derek can only agree, unable to deny it when his body's reaction is clear proof.

"I love your needy little hole," Stiles says next, in between placing kisses across Derek's shoulder blades. "S'needy just for me, isn't it?"

"Uh-huh," Derek chokes out, unable to manage actual words.

When Derek's hole isn't so snug around Stiles' three fingers, Stiles hums. "You ready for your surprise?"

Recalling the bag, Derek nods. "Yeah."

"Alright, then. Turn over."

Stiles and his fingers disappear in the next second, leaving Derek empty. He removes the pillow from beneath himself and turns over onto his back as soon as he can get his body to cooperate with him, sure that doing what Stiles tells him is the fastest way to being filled again. He puts the pillow beneath his head instead to that he's not staring at the ceiling or straining his neck to look at Stiles.

"Look what arrived in the mail this morning, Sourwolf," the boy says, rummaging around in his bag. A second later, he extracts a sex toy the likes of which Derek has never seen before.

At around eight inches long and pretty thick, the dildo is a decent replica for Stiles' penis. It's flesh-toned and has realistic vein details along the shaft, but none of that is unusual. What _is_ unusual is the base and the tube that connects to the very end, where the balls are.

"What _is_ that?" Derek asks, his cock leaking pre-come into the trail of fine dark hair on his stomach.

"This, my little Sourwolf, is a knotting dildo," Stiles announces giddily. "I ordered it specially for you."

Derek stares. "You…what?"

"You see," Stiles begins explaining, staring at the dildo too, running his hand up and down the shaft, "whenever you top me and we tie, it's one of the best feelings in the world. I can't give you the real thing, but I thought you still deserved to know what it's like to be knotted too. So here we are. You're welcome."

While that elucidated a lot, Derek's mind still struggles to process this new turn of events. "You're gonna use that on me?"

"You bet I am."

"But…"

"Just imagine it, Der-bear," Stiles coaxes, crawling forward until he's between Derek's legs again. "Imagine being filled with this thing, to having the knot stretch you wider than ever."

Derek's toes curl just with that simple description. He's already mostly on board, but he'd like to know a bit more about the toy before he lets Stiles put it inside him.

Stiles explains further:

"It works like this." He brings the dildo closer so that Derek can see it better. In his other hand, he holds a black bulb that's connected to the other end of the tube. "I squeeze this, and the knot fills with air. It's sturdy—believe me, this wasn't cheap—so even if you clench down tight on it, the knot's not going anywhere until I flip the release." Stiles points out a stopper on the end of the dildo, so small that it's barely noticeable. "This deflates the knot, if you were worried about it getting stuck."

"I wasn't," Derek says truthfully. "I just wanted to know."

"Alright, then. You good?"

Derek takes a breath and nods, tucking a hand behind his head. "Yeah. Do it."

With some more lube, Stiles slicks up the toy and brings it between Derek's legs, aiming the tip at Derek's prepped hole. Without asking again, he pushes it inside, and Derek moans because it fills him so well. It's not Stiles' cock, but it's a good enough facsimile that it feels as real as he needs it to, if a bit harder than real flesh would be. He closes his eyes in bliss as the dildo bottoms out in him, the fake balls coming to rest against his own weighty ones. As awe-inspiring as Stiles' slender fingers are, there's nothing like being filled with a cock.

Even a fake one.

Stiles fucks the dildo in and out a few times, thrusting slowly while watching Derek's face for any signs of discomfort or disapproval. Seeing none, only pleasure, he eventually ups the pace, fucking Derek with the dildo so hard that Derek has a stray thought that the muscles of Stiles' arm must twinge with pain. Even so, the boy doesn't let up, assaulting Derek's ass like he knows Derek needs.

"So good," Derek moans, fisting his other hand in the sheets by his hip.

"Think you can come just from this?" Stiles asks, just as breathless as his werewolf lover. "You're leaking a shitload of pre-come, and your cock's so red and sore-looking. I think you can."

Derek honestly can't say. He thought he might come untouched in the restaurant, but actually doing it is another matter.

But if Stiles wants him to, he's willing to try.

"Maybe," he answers, cracking open his eyes to peer up at Stiles. His hirsute chest heaves as he draws in ragged breaths.

"Let's find out, then."

Stiles pauses to switch up the angle slightly, and on the next thrust in, the head of the dildo glances hard off of Derek's prostate. Another couple of those precise thrusts and Derek's lost, arching off of the bed with a soundless scream as his orgasm tears through him. He feels it in his extremities, and when it's over, he's sweaty and his fingers and toes tingle pleasantly as feeling returns to them. His torso is a mess of viscous come, matting down his body hair, and yet his cock doesn't soften even a little. He's still too turned on for that because Stiles still hasn't taken out the dildo.

"That's orgasm one out of the way," Stiles says with a grin.

Derek licks his lips and discovers that his fangs are out. A quick inventory of himself reveals that he's in his full beta form. Oops. "One?"

"Oh yeah," Stiles confirms, twisting the dildo slowly so Derek really feels it. "You're gonna come at least twice tonight."

"Fuck…"

After giving him a bit more time to recover, Stiles starts things back up. He fucks Derek slowly with the dildo, only now, he squeezes the black bulb in his other hand every few times, causing the knot to swell in increments so small that Derek almost doesn't notice it. It's only when the knot is swelled about halfway that he becomes aware of how much more difficult it's getting to take the last two inches of the dildo, and it just makes everything hotter.

Like Stiles said, he's been on the other side of this before, but he was always too caught up in how it felt for his own knot to swell to give much thought to how it might feel to be on the receiving end.

In short: it's the best thing that's ever happened to Derek.

He could kiss Stiles for giving this to him if it wouldn't mean bringing a halt to the proceedings. Just the thought is anathema to him, so he stays where he is, spread out in front of Stiles. He even spreads his legs wider in an effort to welcome the knot inside his hole, practically begging Stiles to fill him with it.

"My needy Sourwolf," Stiles murmurs, pleased. "Almost there."

Another few minutes pass, and then the knot is so big that Stiles really has to force it in. It pops past Derek's rim each time, making Derek's whole body quiver.

"Stiles…please…" Derek entreaties

"Get ready."

Derek thinks he can feel the dildo in his throat when Stiles pushes it all the way inside one last time and inflates the fake knot the rest of the way. At its full size, it presses right up against his prostate, entirely unremitting. There's no way Derek can escape from the pleasure, his cock throbbing and his balls drawing up as his second orgasm gets perilously close to overcoming him. All he can do is take it.

"Shh, it's okay," Derek hears Stiles whisper to him, his voice seeming distant. "I've got you, Sourwolf."

There's a strange whining sound in Derek's ears, and it takes him some time to realise that he's the one making it, the noise coming high-pitched from the back of his throat.

When he comes back to himself, Stiles is spread out atop him, the come from his first orgasm sticking them together. The position simulates that it's really Stiles' cock and knot inside Derek's body. He grinds his hips against Derek's ass, forcing the toy to go impossibly deeper, and that's Derek's undoing. With his cock sliding against Stiles' stomach, he comes a second time, his vision whiting out and his sheets tearing as he claws helplessly at them. It's like his whole world fades away.

Somewhere in his head, he registers more wetness spreading between their bodies, and then Stiles' full weight falls atop him. Stiles' breath is hot against the side of his neck.

"Fucking hell, Sourwolf…" the teenager rasps.

Derek just moans, still enjoying the fullness the knot provides.

Unfortunately, such pleasure can't last forever. Before Derek is really ready, Stiles picks himself back up and sits back on his heels between Derek's thighs, his hair sticking to his forehead.

"Wow, you're a mess," he notes with approval. He swirls his fingers through their combined come on Derek's torso, creating patterns.

"Your fault," Derek accuses, not giving a single damn. He can't possibly, not when he thinks he might've reached nirvana.

"You have no idea how hot you were." Stiles makes a show of fanning himself, sending a few drops of come flying over the side of the bed. "Never seen anything hotter than how eager you were to take that huge knot—and boy, did you take it! It's like you were born for it."

"Maybe I was," Derek jokes tiredly, just wanting to sleep now. Unfortunately, he doesn't get his wish just yet.

"We should probably shower," Stiles suggests. "You look sexy covered in come right now, but it won't be sexy when it's all crusty and we have to peel the sheets off of ourselves in the morning."

As much as he doesn't want to, Derek has to admit that Stiles has a point. He starts to gather the energy necessary to get up and move to the bathroom, but then Stiles speaks again and Derek's agreement goes out the window.

"C'mon, let's get this out of you."

Derek whimpers his disapproval as Stiles releases the stopper on the dildo and he feels the knot deflating. "Stiles…"

"Don't worry, I won't leave you empty, Sourwolf," the boy reassures him, even as he carefully pulls out the dildo.

"You just did," Derek says petulantly.

"Only temporarily. To keep you filled, I also bought _this_."

From his bag, Stiles takes a second sex toy, and Derek is delighted to see that it's a huge butt plug, coloured black.

Stiles laughs, but not unkindly. "From the look on your face, I guess you like it, huh?"

"Put it in."

"I will. Hold on."

Thirty seconds later, Derek sighs as Stiles slides the plug home. It's not quite the same as the knotting dildo, but it'll do.

"There," Stiles says. "You can have that in as much as you want."

As Stiles helps him off of the bed, Derek thinks to himself that he might take him up on that and keep the plug in 24/7.

Following a leisurely slower to clean their bodies of their sweat and semen, Derek returns to the bed with Stiles and pulls the sheets up over them both.

"Thanks for tonight," he says softly, curling into Stiles' side and resting his cheek on Stiles' chest.

"You're welcome." Stiles kisses the top of Derek's head. "My needy Sourwolf."

Yeah, Derek thinks. He's Stiles' needy Sourwolf, and he's proud of it.

**Author's Note:**

> I know I said that the next fic in this series would be the trans!Stiles one, but this PWP was yet another idea that popped into my head and wouldn't go away. That's been happening a lot recently, but I can't really complain. I had a lot of fun writing this PWP. It's actually ridiculous how much I love bottom!Derek now, considering how staunchly I avoided it when I first got into this fandom. I'd even go so far as to say that I prefer it over bottom!Stiles—although I still love that too, so I'll continue to write both. Let me know what you thought of this fic, especially if you enjoy Derek being a needy bottom as much as I do. :D
> 
> Stay tuned for my next PWP, which will actually be the trans!Stiles fic.
> 
> **P.S. Don't forget to subscribe to me to be notified when my future fics go live, which will all be Sterek. And please check out my past fics if you haven't already and are interested.**


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